Chocolate Chips and Crooked Smiles
by softasthunder
Summary: "Violet," He breathes, inches away from her face. Her eyelids open lazily.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any original American Horror Story characters that may appear in this story.**

**Claimer: The remainder of this story including: plot, dialogue, & OC characters, is my original work.**

**No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author: <strong>__softasthunder_

_**Pairing: **__Violate_

_**Time: **__1x01 _

_**A/N: **This is my first time writing AHS fanfiction, or Violate for that matter. So I hope it's at least decent c: The fandom really does need more fanfictions, because I'm going crazy without some more.  
><em>

Chocolate Chips and Crooked Smiles

Stars – The xX

"_I can give it all on the first date  
>I don't have to exist outside this place<br>And dear know that I can change"_

_-.-  
><em>

She was digging around in the fridge, looking for something to munch on. Her eyes were red, and she was _happy. _

She was trying to keep her mind off that thing in basement that scarred Leah. She knew Tate was lying; _there was something down there. _Something so unnatural it even scared Violet; like a creepy Halloween doll, except it was breathing, that of which she was sure.

Tate had tried to feed her some shit excuse about Leah just kneeing him, but she saw it.

She saw the wounds on her face; deep like a knife, slashed through her cheeks. She saw the, the _thing _come for her next. She had run away from the lights to try to help the other girl, yet they kept on flickering. She was also positive that Tate had been next to her at some point during the whole scene.

He was cute, yeah, and he got things that many other kids here wouldn't. She was attracted to him for his idiosyncrasy, his stories, and opinions. She knew there was something off with him if he was sixteen and seeing her dad, but she thought nothing of it.

Loads of kids were sent to help because they were brats or melodramatic. She knew that. She had met a lot of others that cut for attention, not for real problems.

Violet had started at 13.

She remembers that day vividly, it was like a fresh start.

New emotions grasped her, she felt more alive than ever. Taking her razor and wanting to see what would happen. It was curiosity at first, and then she put the blade to her arm and ripped her pale skin open. It hurt, but it was a good pain; one that she had become addicted to.

She leaves the fridge and finds a packet of cookies her mom had baked in their traditional jar. She grins widely, not noticing the boy behind her, and dives her hand in.

"Hungry," Tate's voice comments and she hears him. She felt him moving closer to her. Slowly, she turns around, jumps onto the counter, and bites in the chocolate.

"How'd you notice?" She replies, grinning at nothing. Even if in her state, she wouldn't look at him.

"Did you know that there's a study that if you let girls with eating disorders smoke, they'll gain weight from the munchies?" Tate asks, shifting on his feet, reaching for a cookie as well.

"I heard," She tips her head back and lets herself relax.

She doesn't see Tate lick his lips, or turn the cookie around and around in his hand before taking a bite. She doesn't feel Tate striding towards her, all she feels is mellow, her iPod resounds the ever-famous Reggae.

"Violet," He breathes, inches away from her face. Her eyelids open lazily.

"Tate," She replies, growing bored now.

"Can we just forget about that basement shit?" He pleads, grabbing her hand. "It won't ever happen again."

She lets her head fall to the side, and considers his offer.

He was fun to be around; she smiles, remembering their brief encounters. Finally, she looks at his face. His messy blond curls, his brown eyes and crooked smile. She runs her hand over his cheekbones, slightly caved in, and her thumb rests on his bottom lip.

"Yeah." She whispers, smiling.

He grins widely, "Wanna watch some T.V or something?"

She smiles again, and stretches off the counter. "Sid and Nancy is on Netflix." She offers up instead.

He nods, even though she's thinking he might not know what Netflix is. He didn't seem too update to date with a lot of the technology, songs or books she shared with him, and that was okay. She took pride in interesting him.

"Cool."

"Cool."

She walking to the television room and Tate is next to her, shy and sweet, and she likes this Tate rather than the other one whose laugh kinda freaked her out, but she thinks she might like his fucked up side too because he's Tate and she's Violet and his hand, unsure, reaches for hers.

She turns to look at him, and he belatedly realized she was coming down. She smiles at him just like the time he asked for Kurt Cobain on her music player thing, he smiles back, and they're holding hands.


End file.
